


Undercover

by RedemptionRover



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Arthur is an organised crime boss, Francis is an undercover detective, Human AU, it is what it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedemptionRover/pseuds/RedemptionRover
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy has been waiting for this kind of career boosting opportunity his whole life, but it won't be easy infiltrating the criminal underground faction run by Arthur Kirkland. Doesn't mean he won't try though.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Proposition

Francis could feel the tension in the room as he sat across from his boss, Captain Beilschmidt. He'd never understood how the brother of his charismatic and energetic friend on the force, Gilbert, could be so stoic and reserved. There had been rumours buzzing around the office all morning about him being in trouble, so naturally it felt like his stomach was going to fall out. He'd even managed to give himself a bit of a stress headache. _Need to stop indulging Gilbert in wine and cheese nights, it can't be helping_ , he thought. His leg was bouncing with nerves before the man before him cleared his throat.

"Detective Bonnefoy," Ludwig started in an even tone, not betraying the intention of this meeting, "I would first like to congratulate you on the drug bust you successfully engineered earlier this week it was exceptional work."

"Thank you, sir." Francis tried to keep the same neutral tone but couldn't stop the small smile that betrayed his pride. He and Gilbert had been at the case for 2 months among other cases and it had been extremely difficult to catch any members of the drug ring that would betray anyone important. It had been after a 4 day stake-out that they finally got their lucky break and managed to bring down the leader and 25 other members in a warehouse.

"In fact, you have shown remarkable capabilities in the last few years you have been here and an unwavering loyalty to the safety and protection of this city. I would go so far as to say you are the best Detective in this precinct." Francis would have been beaming under the compliments if he weren't so suspicious of the show of kindness the Captain usually didn't allow to grace his interactions. Ludwig must have been able to sense the anticipation he was creating so he quickly moved on. "That's why I'd like you to consider taking on a very important case that could potentially be the greatest achievement the law enforcement of New York have ever seen if you can pull it off." The strict man stood and walked from behind his desk to a board that was set up on the side of the room and spun it around to show lines of string connecting together pictures of criminals Francis recognised immediately. 

Francis could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he immediately got ahead of himself. If he managed to take down even a fraction of Arthur Kirkland's gang of ruthless criminals he'd be celebrated beyond belief. He'd heard talk around the local enforcements of how a criminal empire seemed to be spreading around the country and undermining the government. Detectives like him almost never got to take on responsibilities like this. "Sir, this looks like an amazing opportunity-"

"-it is." Ludwig interrupted. "But it is highly secretive and this proposition, wether you choose to take the offer or not, is not to be discussed beyond this room, is that understood?"

"Yes Sir." Francis automatically corrected his posture and sat back from where he had leaned in because of his interest in the board before him. 

"Excellent. Now, as I'm sure you already know the criminal Arthur Kirkland has risen above the radar of the police department in Chicago. As such, it is very important that any undercover involvement comes from outside of the state of Illinois. Organised crime at this capacity means that Kirkland likely has every high ranking member of enforcement in his knowledge bank and wouldn't let any of them within a mile of him, not to mention leaks from crooked officers. As such, I put your name forward as a potential candidate for an undercover position within Kirkland's group and after reviewing your work the higher ranks have decided that you are the top candidate if you would do this service for the people. I understand that this is a dangerous and-"

"I'll do it." Francis blurted out, unable to think beyond his future success. Not only would this fast-track him in his career but the raise would be substantial. He could swim in a pool of money like the cartoon duck from that movie Gilbert had made him watch. 

"Francis, this could take up a significant part of your life-"

"All due respect, Sir, but this job already takes up a significant part of my life. I got into this profession to help and protect the people. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to bring down this psychopath and save the world from a little suffering." Francis said with conviction. All he had wanted after moving away from the tragedy he had endured in Paris, was to be a man that could stop someone going through the pain he'd gone through. It had fuelled his passion for his job for years now and was sure to power it for the rest of his life. Nothing could change that. 

"I understand what you have been through, Detective, but this is not a decision you should take lightly. There is no guarantee of your safety in this position though the departments will provide the best support they can. You would be removed from your friends and life here for an indefinite amount of time."

"I have very little to leave behind in comparison to other officers. No family or roommate. I don't need further consideration. I'll do it." Francis said with a finality that Ludwig had no choice but to accept.

"If you're so sure then we can have your papers drafted by the end of the week. You are a truly brave and selfless officer and the world will know it. For now, though, let me briefly tell you what it is you'll be doing before I give you some materials to read on the case." He pointed with a laser pen to a picture of an obnoxious looking blonde man wearing glasses pinned to the middle of the board with the most strings attached. "Everything has a weak point and in the case of the Chicago mob that weak spot is Alfred F. Jones, Arthur's supposed son. You'll probably recognise his face from a recent murder trial that managed to put the mob on the map. He was found innocent under very suspicious circumstances that are no doubt due to Kirkland. Because of this, Jones now seems to think himself invincible and it is through him you will find your way in."

"He seems easily enamoured, I am sure it will not be too difficult." Francis asserted, almost not believing that this was actually happening right now. He'd seen the various news outlets that had covered Jones' case and had scoffed at the assured behaviour he exhibited to reporters, though it all turned out to be a justified behaviour when he was found not guilty of three murders despite a hoard of evidence piled against him. Half of it had been due to the legal team at Kirkland's disposal and their expert court manor, but even that couldn't gather a pardon for such an obvious perpetrator. Francis had thought something strange must have been going on but thought it not in his place to dispute.

"It would appear so." Ludwig agreed. "But be careful. He is known to be impulsive and dangerous at times." 

"I should imagine." Francis said, and was going ask a question before there was a knock on the door and Ludwig quickly turned the board and sat back at his desk.

"Come in." He said loudly and in burst his brother, grinning as always until he saw the serious look on his friend and brother's face. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking at Francis' unusual expression, who then turned to Ludwig for an answer, unsure of what was going to be set up to cover up his new case.

"Come in. Close the door." Ludwig demanded and Gilbert did as he was told then took a seat next to Francis without waiting for permission, slightly annoying his brother who always had to remind him that their professional relationship shouldn't be affection by their family relation. 

"Has someone important been capped?"

"Gilbert, please." Ludwig said in a stern tone, long past trying to reign in his brother's callous nature. "It has been brought to the attention of the department that Francis' life may be in danger from one of his past arrests. He is going to have to go into witness protection."

Gilbert looked from his brother to his best friend but found no hint of a joke on either expression. "Fran, is this true?" His blonde friend nodded earnestly. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do? There must be some way for me to help with the case!"

"You're too close to it." Ludwig asserted, and Francis wasn't surprised at how easily he could lie as he only expressed minimal emotion anyway. "People have already been assigned and if I see you anywhere near it you're going on leave is that understood?"

Gilbert crossed his arms and went to make an argument before Francis put a hand on his arm. "It's alright, mon ami, as long as we both stay away from this I'll be safe and so will you. I can take care of myself we both know that or do I need to prove it to you again?" 

The platinum haired detective huffed a laugh at the memory of when Francis first joined the department and Gilbert had pegged him as the soft sort when he saw how kindly he interacted with the other officers and detectives. It hadn't been until they were on a murder case as partners and Francis tackled down a 6 foot mountain of a man after said perp had shot him in the shoulder, that he got why he'd been hired. He'd saved Gilbert's life that day and they'd been best friends and case partners ever since. It was Francis that taught Gilbert it was okay to be soft sometimes. "No need to strain yourself, old man."

Francis rolled his eyes. There was only two years difference between the men yet the teasing was never-ending, but this time it was different. This time he was trying to cover up his worry for Francis because sometimes, when the Frenchman thought no-one was looking, Gilbert could see a sad and distant expression on his face, as if he were lost in a memory. Of all people, Gilbert knew that Francis was the least deserving of sadness and endeavoured to save his best friend from it every day. "Respect your elders, Gilbert." Francis played along. 

Ludwig cleared his throat. "This is not a social setting, gentleman. Gilbert, what is it that you needed?"

"Oh, I totally forgot about that." He laughed. "There's a man here to see you about crime statistics, said he had a meeting planned."

"Ah." Both detectives gave each other a look and suppressed laughter at their Captain's response. His tendency to hold things in meant that the indictions he did give were very noticeable, such as when he had forgotten about a meeting. "Gilbert, go and tell the man I'll have him in 5 minutes after I've finished here with Francis."

"Of course." He then left after patting Francis' shoulder, a motion that from him meant _I'll talk to you later_ and closed the door behind him. 

"I'm sorry to have to cut this short after so little a time but it is probably for the best you get more aquatinted with the material in your file as soon as possible." He then pulled a file from the top drawer of his desk and handed the surprisingly heavy pile of documents to Francis. "You have until tomorrow morning to gather yourself until you get driven to Chicago. If you have any questions before that time feel free to call me but after that you must not attempt to contact me nor anyone else you know. You will be given new contact information and your life here will be temporarily erased." Ludwig took a deep breath and patted Francis on the back with sympathy. "I wish you the best of luck Detective Bonnefoy and wish your safe return to come quickly. You will be a great loss to the department and the city while you're gone."

"Thank you, Sir. I promise to do you all proud."

"I'm sure you will, Detective. Please feel free to say goodbye to Gilbert though keep it brief. Any attention drawn to you at this point is bad attention. Dismissed." Ludwig said and Francis nodded before leaving the office and shutting the door behind him, heading to his desk to pick up his phone.

"I can't believe it." Came a voice quietly from his right. "Of all people you end up with the death threat."

"Sometimes the Universe likes to remind us we are not invincible. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her, Gilbert." Francis chuckled.

"Fuck the universe. She's always hated me - I knew that the first time I looked in the mirror. Used to make all the other kids run and cry."

"Maybe she was protecting them from the ruthless villain you are." Gilbert shoved Francis playfully for that, though his fun nature was somewhat subdued by the situation he believed to be at hand. "Kidding of course, you're a teddy bear really, no?" 

They both smiled but Gilbert's was a little reserved, a little sad. "I'm going to miss you, you know Francey Pants. There's no Detective on the force that can charm his way into the best cases like you can." He said, adding the nickname that irritated Francis to no end so that his words were somewhat softened and he didn't seem too vulnerable. "The ladies at the front desk and the night staff won't know how to cope without their weekly flowers from your little porch garden. How will the second floor officers go on without your little French pastries every Monday from a weekend of baking? What am I going to do when I get locked out on the balcony and the only one who notices I'm missing and lets me back in is gone?"

Francis chuckled at that, remembering just how little common sense his intelligent partner was known to have. "No-one could not notice you weren't there for too long, cher. You're like your own one-man parade. I guess our little world here is just going to have to rest on your shoulders for a while." Francis pocketed his phone and gave Gilbert a little hug, a sign of affection that wasn't unusual for the two best friends around the office. "I have to go now." He said regrettably. "Got a lot to sort out before tomorrow."

Gilbert nodded with as much understanding as he could muster. "Already can't wait for the huge party when you get back."

Francis smiled as his friend turned to walk back to his own desk. "Oh, and Gilbert?" The other turned back to face him. "I'll miss you too." Then with one last warm smile he turned and walked to the staircase and go home for the last time in what could be a long while.


	2. Settling in

By the time the car picked him up at 8 a.m. Francis had finally finished the last of the file. He'd been up all night reading the details of the people he'd be living with and the life he was going to be taking on. His new past consisted of a lifetime in France having only just moved to Chicago recently after working in a small bakery in Bourges. Francis had never actually visited that particular city but he expected no-one would know much about it anyway so it would be easy to lie about it. He also figured choosing his actual home of Paris would be too close to his real life and therefore dangerous when it came to his identity being known, and it was probably true that any person pretending to be French would choose that city automatically. He was also glad to have been labelled a baker, because that would be what he was most passionate about other than his detective work. Once his passion had been quite different, but he didn't like to think about it.

With his talent he was supposed to start work in Kirkland's apartment building after his old pastry chef died in a kitchen fire. Francis had been recommended through the grapevine from a few inconspicuous sources the law enforcement had already managed to implement into this world. Word of mouth in a community like this spread fast and was highly valued and so Francis was brought in. From there he was expected to work his way into trust with the other personal staff of Kirkland slowly and get whatever information he could that he would have to relay back to Ludwig once a month if he was able. 

Francis was grateful for the smooth, soft leather on the backseat that he could rest his head against while his heavy eyelids drooped closed. He hadn't known he'd actually fallen asleep until he was being woken up by the driver telling him they'd arrived at his new apartment.

The building wasn't altogether too bad-looking. It was a little old and dirty but nothing seemed broken unlike his apartment building in New York with it's various broken windows and bent metal hand railings on the front. There was also only one small bit of graffiti on the very bottom and Francis counted that as a win. 

After getting his keys out of his pocket that he had been given in an envelope in his file he bid farewell to his driver and headed upstairs with no luggage, as he was to be provided with everything he would need. 

When he walked into his new home the first thing he thought was that he must have walked into the wrong place, because this one seemed to be very much lived in. There were blankets thrown over a small sofa in the middle of the living room, facing a small tv on a cabinet that was filled with old movies, some French and some English, but all of which he was certain he hadn't seen before. Other than that the only other pieces of furniture in the room were a small bookshelf and chest of drawers that were part of a matching set, the drawers being just at the back of the sofa and the bookshelf in the corner behind a very soft looking armchair amassed with pillows and blankets.

The carpet was also a dull colour so that it didn't look either clean or dirty, and was actually very soft, which made Francis smile. His apartment back home had carpets that felt like sandpaper but he could never afford to get them changed. There was also a very comfortable looking faux fur rug in front of the sofa with a glass coffee table on it that had a few books and coasters on it. 

Walking further in to the room he noticed the kitchen that was joined to the living room was small and stocked with everything you would need to cook. The cabinets were wooden and painted blue and white and were actually quite charming. Interestingly, compared to the rest of the apartment so far it was very out of place with it's pristine nature, which made sense. A cook would prioritise the kitchen, he supposed. Though being a baker it would be much more likely he would have wooden spoons, a big mixer, and weighing scales out than pots, pans and a coffee machine. If this was a crime scene Francis would assume he were looking for a strict head chef rather than a likeable baker. He would have to change that. First though, he would see the rest of the apartment, meaning the bedroom and the balcony by the looks of things. 

He first went to the small door to his bedroom and looked inside, surprised at how cosy the small room looked. The bed was double, and took up a lot of space, leaving only enough for a small wardrobe full of comfortable looking clothes, a few suits and a few everyday outfits that though he wouldn't choose to wear normally looked rather nice. Very bright, inviting. The small bathroom attached was very clean and all white tile and smelled of lemons. A sanitary choice for a man with a career that would require it.

Lastly, he opened the glass doors to his tiny balcony, that mustn't have been a meter wide with a little rusting table and two chairs with an ashtray in the middle. The railng was made of thin white stripes of metal that had been woven together in little charming swirls. Francis leaned against the balcony and looked at the view the 6th floor afforded him, which was very little but would also have to be something he could memorise if anyone were to ask about it. Someone living in an apartment so small on their own would be very intimately aware of every feature at their disposal, especially if they had been saving up to move to that place in particular. 

As he was ruminating over this he heard the voice of a woman shouting from across the way in a very obtrusive way. "Hey! Hey, Mister!" Francis was automatically drawn to the voice and looked up to find a woman on the balcony level to his across the street, not far enough away that he couldn't hear her. "Yeah, you! You new here or something? I never seen anybody out on that balcony before."

"I am new, yes." Francis replied, not wanting his reply to be too long if she wasn't in fact talking to him, but by her small nod of acceptance, it was clear she was. He assumed whoever put him here hadn't taken this woman into account. She'd obviously been a long time resident if she had noticed he was new, but also highly observant. Francis imagined there wasn't much of the street she couldn't see from her balcony, and a lot she could get away with witnessing due to the high up nature of it. 

"My name's Amelia." She shouted back. Clearly she was interested in the neighbourhood she lived in, but wether she was seeing Francis as a potential friend or threat was yet unknown.

"I'm Francis." He didn't want to give too much information either way, though he imagined a friend could be good practise to try and sell his new life to. The rainbow flag haphazardly painted on her brickwork and the layered pink flag painted on a plant pot in the middle of her table also told Francis he needn't worry about her falling for him romantically. Ironically, he figured it would be nice to have a friend with no ulterior motive towards him. He also wondered if he should be worried about a second woman in that apartment then. One inquisitive neighbour at eye-level was enough, never mind two.

"That's a real nice accent you've got. European?" She was very forward but Francis was used to that by now. A lot of Americans he had met were rather social.

"I'm from Bourges, in France." 

"Oh, I've always wanted to go there!" Her mannerisms and what she chose to say told Francis that he had been cleared as a threat and she genuinely just wanted to know her new neighbour. She seemed either very outgoing or lonely, Francis just needed some time to figure out which. "Walk over there!" She shouted, pointing to far right of his balcony to which he obliged and she mirrored him, then tugged on a plastic clothes line that attached their two apartments, a little higher up on her side. Not strong enough to hold a human and be a threat of invasion, but unusual enough a fixture to make Francis raise an eyebrow. "I usually use the dryer at the laundromat so you can use this if you want." Francis smiled with what he hoped came across as a grateful expression.

"I usually use them too but thank you for the offer." She shrugged that off easily enough but Francis could tell she was a little disappointed he wouldn't have a reason to come out to the balcony because she didn't say anything back, probably thinking it was because he didn't want to talk to her. _Lonely._ She seemed nice enough though, and he wouldn't have to worry about that second woman just yet he supposed. "But I don't know any places to go for that yet so if you're not too busy this weekend maybe you could show me?" A perfect proposition, he thought. Friendly and kind, something Amelia clearly wanted. She perked up immediately.

"I'm free Saturday."

"I'll meet you in front of my building at 9am on Saturday then and we can find a good laundrette, yes?"

"Sounds good to me!"

"Fantastic! I need to go back inside to clean up but I look forward to it." He shouted to her and received a genuine smile in return.

"See you then, neighbour!"

He turned and walked back inside, closing the doors to the balcony and drawing the curtain that obstructed onlookers' view into his home. He then hung his coat on the hooks near his front door and sat down on his sofa, taking a deep breath to try and ease some of his nerves. His apartment, though small, was comfortable at least. He actually found himself almost sinking into the sofa and feeling comforted in the quiet. There was still the hum of the city which was a comfort to Francis because it was so different to his home and the sound kept his mind constantly occupied. _It'll do you no good just thinking all the time._

After sitting for a little while and then walking around and getting used to his new home, he decided it was time to make some practise pastries. It hadn't been that long since he had last made something. He'd actually gotten into the habit of baking at least once a week, usually on Sundays so that he spent some time detaching himself from the cruel world of crime he had walked into. Some cases were very emotionally heavy and too much for some people to bear, so he knew he needed to switch off sometimes and baking really helped him with that. He loved the comforting scents and the warmth and being able to make something beautiful that people could enjoy and that he could share. 

With his mind set he got to work in his small kitchen, putting on the radio that was connected to some classical station and getting himself and his workspace covered in the ingredients that were provided for him in his cupboards and refrigerator. He had been given a remarkable amount of food, though he imagined it was thought necessary with his new job. The fresh fruit, meat and vegetables came as a wonderful surprise that he was grateful for though. He wondered just how long before he'd gotten there that other people were setting up the stage for this apartment that he was already becoming so comfortable with.

After an hour of measuring, mixing, rolling and cooking he had two batches of tarts, both peach and strawberry and was very pleased with himself until he realised he was never going to eat them by himself, because he'd made far too many what with being used to making enough to go around his workplace as well as neighbours. He thought what to do for a minute then decided it would probably be beneficial to become well aquatinted with the staff of the building. That way, he was sure to always be greeted nicely and hopefully be on good terms with the maintenance people. 

With that in mind, he found a tupperware box to put the small tarts in and took them downstairs, a little flour dusting his thighs were the apron had been too short. When he reached the desk the receptionist gave him a weary look but then a welcoming smile as she was taught to do. "Is there something I can help you with, Sir?"

"Ah, well I've just moved in recently and I was wondering if I could perhaps bestow a gift of thanks to the people who help to keep everything running around here?" He said with his most charming smile which she was clearly rather enamoured by. His choice of words were very carefully considered on his way down the stairs. Saying he had moved in recently correlated with his story but also didn't give a definite time, and the arrival of fresh fruit from him without him having been seen coming in with groceries would make the receptionist believe he had simply been the type of person to have slipped under the radar until they chose to be seen. If anyone came asking after him for any reason, therefore, the staff would simply have in their minds that they didn't know how long he'd been there, not that he was just a new addition.

"Just doing our best for your comfort." She smiled back at him as he put the tupperware box on the desk. 

"I'm a baker, you see. It's a way of showing thanks in my family and I simply wished to extend this to you and your fellow colleagues if that's alright?"

"Well we're not supposed to accept gifts like this..." She looked into the box as she started saying that and as soon as she saw the fresh strawberries and the golden-brown pastry she seemed to change her mind and offered Francis a grateful smile. "Though I suppose just once couldn't hurt. I'll go put them on a plate so you can have your box back,, I'll be back in a second." And with that she took the box with her through a door behind the reception desk, presumably leading to a sort of communal staff break room and returned, true to her word, not a minute later with his box. He graciously accepted it back.

"Merci, Madame." He said, knowing the French would entice her curiosity. He also knew that because of American movies, she would find him a little more attractive for it. 

"That's quite alright. Not many people choose to be kind like that it's very appreciated, trust me." She assured him and was about to say something when a man came from the door that she had just come back from wearing janitor's clothing and holding a tart in his hand. 

"These are incredible." He said, referring to the small dessert in his hand. "Where did you get them from?" He asked the young woman, quite easily ignoring Francis. 

"This gentleman here made them as a thanks for helping keep the place running."

The janitor looked up at Francis then with such an intense look of gratitude it was almost shocking. "Thank you, Sir."

"Oh, please, call me Francis. And it's you that should be thanked. I truly appreciate the work you do." He smiled and both workers were happy to see such genuine kindness that Francis found it a little sad and decided from then on that any spare treats were to go to these people that were so fascinated by a selfless act of kindness. "I must be going now but I hope you truly enjoy this small gift." And after receiving a small nod from the janitor and smile from the receptionist he made his way back to his apartment with a little swell in his heart. It was always a warming feeling for him to be able to put a smile on the faces of someone new. It certainly took his mind off the danger he was putting himself into when he accepted this job.

When he got back to his apartment he spent some time watching one of the old French movies that was provided for him and found that it was a romantic movie, so he was immediately hooked and found that by the end he was actually sat with tears in his eyes and a dopey smile. With that light mood he decided to have some dinner and an early night to prepare for his first day tomorrow in Arthur Kirkland's actual building. Where he lived. Where he ran his criminal empire from when he wasn't committing atrocities in the heart of the city. He was equal parts excited and nervous but he figured the best thing to do overall would be to get a good night's sleep in preparation, so that's exactly what he did.

\-----------------------------

He woke up surprisingly early along with the singing birds at the hour of 5am, because of his nerves he supposed. The last time he'd been surrounded by hardened criminals was when he had gone to a state prison on a tour as part of an awareness course of how prisoners were treated and how important it was to do his job right. But that had been very different. They had all been behind bars and harmless, this time he was on the front line, so to speak. Nothing would separate him from seasoned murderers, blackmailers, drug dealers, everything! He'd never been near somewhere so rife in crime before it had been taken down. Sure he'd taken part in a few covert operations before but they had always been small drug rings or stolen goods but never to this extent. 

With a deep sigh he decided to get some fresh air on the balcony to ease his rushing thoughts and calm down. When he got there he was surprised to find a little basket with a fastened lid sitting on the end of the plastic wire connecting his and Amelia's apartments. Cautiously, he took it off and sat at the little metal table to look inside and found a letter on top, reading:

_Hey Francis,_

_I hope you don't think this is weird or anything it's just that you looked so tired yesterday and I thought this would be a nice little pick me up! I know you don't really know me but I'm a nurse and I just like to look out for people, especially the people in my little neighbourhood. So, you could also think of this as a little welcome to town if you like. It's my favourite blend from the coffee shop down the road but it's okay if you don't like it. Anyways sorry to ramble, hope you're finding everything alright!_

_Amelia :)_

Francis smiled at the genuinely sweet gesture and put the card in his pocket, then got a little packet of coffee out of the basket. He looked over at the other balcony to see if he could shout over a thanks but Amelia wasn't there. She might have been on a night shift if she was a nurse, he figured, or maybe 5 in the morning is a time nobody is usually awake for. Francis had always been a morning person and was usually awake by 7 anyway so it wasn't that much of a difference but he knew that plenty of people didn't like mornings. Gilbert hated them. He'd found that out during a stakeout when the albino had trudged into the room at 8am and when Francis had said good morning he'd received an annoyed groan in response. He hadn't been able to entice the other into conversation for another hour after two coffees. Without Amelia being there he figured he'd have to catch her on the balcony next time he saw her to give her thanks.

At least now there was time for him to prepare himself, and so prepare he did. He took a hot shower, ironed and put on the best suit in his given collection and had a small breakfast of poached eggs with a side of the coffee Amelia had given him, which turned out to be just as good if not better than the one he usually had at home. He seemed to have calmed down a lot over the course of the two hours it had taken to get ready and a lot of that was likely due to the social acceptance provided by Amelia. It definitely upped his confidence that he was able to pull this off.

After that he picked up the brand new smartphone he'd been given, because a cheap burner phone would have been too suspicious, with a new sim and put in his jacket pocket, with his keys in the other. He then got the last few tarts out of the refrigerator in case he was asked for samples and set off. He wasn't meant to arrive at the residence until 8:30 but he read in the file that Kirkland very much hated tardiness, so he did his best to leave a bad first impression. With it now being 7am he figured after the 30 minute commute he would have plenty of time to talk to anyone that he encountered and could charm before his training in kitchen safety.

When he arrived at the building he was wide-eyed in amazement at how anyone could live in a place like this. It was taller than any apartment building he'd ever been admitted into and the exterior was a mix between matte black and polished marble, all clean, sharp and beautiful. It looked like some sort of company headquarters with it's professional air, especially with the staff dressed up to the nines and all in perfect order, not a hair out of place. It was a good job Francis had such tight control of his hair all the time because otherwise he feared he'd look like some sort of miscreant compared to these people. In a strange way, Francis had imagined a rougher group of people to be meandering about, with blatant misdeeds going on from the second he stepped through. A sit was, he might as well have been walking into the White House. 

He walked in with the same confidence that every other member staff seemed to hold, the kind that he saw the rich bankers and models strut with in the streets at home and sauntered up to the desk as if he was one of them. Not that it seemed to make any difference. No-one was looking him at all, which he had been expecting. Instead, everyone seemed occupied with their own activities. It wasn't bustling, there were maybe 3 or 4 staff there, but everyone who _was_ there was doing something. _Quality over quantity indeed._

The big marble desk at the front of the lobby was one of the most uninviting things he'd ever seen, more like a wall to protect those within than invite those outside. Maybe though, that was because it was very much out of his price range. People who had grown up around expensive materials and a silver spoon in their mouth probably found the prospect of hand-crocheted blankets barbaric and poor.

"Good Morning. How can I help you, Sir?" Asked the receptionist, a man with a young face and sweet voice with a name-tag reading _Tino_. 

"Good Morning! I am the new pastry chef, Francis." 

"Yes, of course." Tino quickly did something with his computer before turning back to Francis with a smile. "You're early. Very good. The last one was never on time." He shook his head. "Not good to keep everyone waiting like that. A team is less than efficient if people can't work together."

"I agree. It is irksome when one person falls and everything collapses, no? Even the smallest stone helps make the mountain my mother used to say." Francis smiled and Tino returned the expression with warmth. Francis had been expecting an icy exterior to anyone that worked alongside or for Arthur Kirkland, of which this man definitely did. Not only did Arthur live in the divine penthouse on the top floor but he also owned the entire rest of the building so that his guests would not have to go out of their way to find accommodation when he was making deals and hosting events. Though to have the rest of the building was just to show off, because there was never any visit in so vast a quantity that the whole building or even half of it would be filled. 

"A wise woman, then. I think you'll do well here." Tino said, and Francis felt a small swell of pride in his chest. He didn't even know why this man's opinion of him mattered to him, but he imagined it was because he was the first domino in this line of deceit. His assurance was sure to get Francis on a roll. _Even small victories are victories nevertheless._

"Honestly, I'm a little nervous. I've not heard anything about here. I only recently moved from France so I'm not so knowledgable." He gave a nervous chuckle then a little shrug as if he were shy about his lack of information about the environment he was entering into.

Tino made a sympathetic expression then turned a little in his chair so that Francis could tell he was fully paying attention to him. "You don't need to worry about anything so long as you're a good and loyal worker." He gave Francis a serious face at that, and he knew that Tino was telling the absolute truth with. He knew that he should fear the consequence of not being good and loyal. "Mr Kirkland is a nice man and a kind employer. You'll get good job security and the people here work well together. A lot of people here came alone, but this is a nice place to work. Don't be afraid." Tino said, and his expression shifted back to kind so immediately and sincerely that Francis was a little taken aback. He could see how people could be easily manipulated by this man, though for some reason he didn't feel like Tino would do that to someone on purpose unless he absolutely had to. 

Francis made his posture relax and let out a huff of air he had been unconsciously holding in. "I'm glad to hear that. I have been waiting to come to America for so long and this place seems too good to be true."

Tino seemed to take a liking to Francis at that. "It does, doesn't it?" He chucked. Clearly, for a reason unknown to Francis, Tino seemed to have a genuine like for this place. "What have you got there?" He gestured to the box Francis was holding.

"Oh, a few samples I baked last night. Strawberry and Peach tarts. Would you like to test some for me?" He offered, opening the tupperware and extending it to Tino.

"Well, if you're offering I suppose it couldn't hurt." Tino smiled as he took a peach tart and took a small bite. Francis felt a small wave of happiness at that. Tino had no sense of weariness about him at all, he was all soft around the edges and seemed like the kind of person that would look after a crying child lost in a mall. Tino clearly gave the benefit of the doubt when it came to people and saw the best in them and that was a rare person to find in this world. _Stop it, you don't know this man! This is how they reel you in..._ "Oh wow, that's really really good. No wonder they got you in."

"Thank you! I'm glad you think so. I hope everyone else does too." Francis said, knowing that Tino would be the kind of person that likes to make people feel better, and so being able to brighten Francis up would make him feel good too, therefore making him see Francis as an opportunity to spread happiness and have a positive view of him from now on.

"I'm sure they will!" He assured the other man. "They're very sweet and Mr Kirkland adores fresh fruit so he's sure to love it too." 

"You're very kind." Francis said and gave Tino a grateful smile that seemed to make the other man a little giddy with himself. He was about say something further when there was a little notification from his computer.

"Ah! I told the kitchen staff you were here and they're ready for you now. It's been a pleasure, Francis. I hope you start to feel at home soon."

"Thank you, Tino." Francis said, proving that he was paying attention to his surroundings and took the effort to learn the other man's name, which he got rewarded with a small nod for.

"Just up the corridor to your left, last turn to the right."

Francis then took his other pastries with him as he left the desk and waved off Tino on his way down the corridor. It was shaping up to be a great first day. Tino was more sociable and easy to talk to than the officers at the precinct, but he knew that he was probably an anomaly and that he should prepare for much darker interactions. 

With that mindset he took a deep breath and stood before the kitchen, ready to officially meet the people he would be working closely with day in, day out for god knows how long. This could either go very good, like just now, or with one wrong move very, very bad.


	3. Meeting

If Francis was already nervous the bright fluorescent lighting certainly didn't help. Although to be fair that was all he'd found particularly unnerving about the interview.

"Francis Bonnefoy?" Came a deep and slightly accented voice from a tall short haired man in an all white kitchen uniform.

Francis nodded. "Yes, Chef."

"My name is Berwald." 

After that there'd been given some general interview questions about why he thought he was good for the job and what he could contribute, how well he worked in a team and that kind of thing. He'd also given one of his samples and gotten mild praise, but Francis suspected that was the best he'd get in this kind of establishment. As for qualifications and references that had already been sorted before he'd gotten there, presumably by the 'friends' that had recommended him, so all he had to do was charm his way in, which wasn't as easy as he'd imagined with Berwald but he'd still managed. When his answers were accepted and he changed into the new uniform he was given, having put his clothes and tupperware into a locker, he was tasked with making three different small deserts to serve for lunch and got to it right away. 

While he was waiting for one of his pastry doughs to chill he tried conversation with Berwald but it wasn't an easy task, the other usually giving mono-syllable responses that were straight to the point. He'd asked a few questions over the course of the past hour he'd been there, stopping after he realised Berwald was a big, handsome dead end.

"Have you worked here long?"

"Yes."

Francis expected Berwald to add more to the response, which he was clearly trying to instigate, but he never did. It would make sense for someone in this enterprise to be wary of a newcomer asking too many questions. He was probably better off trying to stay clear of the suspicious types. "Right." He tried talking to a few other chefs that were wandering around the kitchen either cleaning up after breakfast or prepping for dinner, but they all seemed to be just as new as him, Berwald seemingly the only one knowing how everything should be run. He felt like a bee in a hive where Berwald was the all-knowing Queen.

By the time a few hours had rolled by Francis had gotten absolutely nothing useful other than a few acquaintances wandering around the kitchen. That was until a certain blonde American busted in through the heavy metal doors while Francis was finishing up on some piping.

"Hey Teddy Bear! Got anything new for me today? I missed breakfast this morning." The obnoxious man asked the head chef as he sat up on one of the counters. Not very cleanly if you asked the pastry chef.

"Off the counter." Commanded Berwald, much to the surprise of Francis, and to his further surprise the other blonde listened, hopping down and laughing. 

"You're so mean to me."

"I keep you fed, isn't that all you ever want?" There was a slight shift in tone, so subtle that Francis would have missed it had he not been offering his full attention to the interaction. It was surprising that Berwald felt comfortable enough around this monster to let himself have banter with him, or maybe Berwald was just uncomfortable around new people, or maybe the American demanded to be conversed with to satiate his boredom. Francis was sure he'd find out at some point. 

"A man after my own heart. What will you tell Tino?" Francis was shocked at that. The implication that this tall stoic man could be with the bouncy and sweet personality at the front desk was not something Francis foresaw. _No, maybe he's referring to one of the other many Tino's you've heard of._ Though he knew as well as anyone love didn't always make sense. He supposed it would make sense in that the two would balance out, though it was possible that he was teasing too.

"There's food left over in the microwave. Mister Kirkland wanted you to know he was disappointed that you were late."

"He's disappointed all the time, I can't imagine it was that much worse than normal." Alfred said as he took some sort of sandwich out of the microwave and starting eating it. His eyes flickered around the kitchen, searching for something to drink when his eyes caught onto Francis. "What you staring at?"

"Be nice." Berwald told him as he made his way over to the Frenchman. 

"Nothing." Francis said, a new fear running through him. Any attention is bad attention. _Oh God, this is it. This is my final moment, I'm going to die in a hideous all-white uniform._

"You lying to me, man?"

"Non. I did not mean to." Francis insisted, and looked back down to his work, where he had over iced one of the eclairs. He was afraid he was going to say something confrontational if he got too involved.

"Kinda looks like you are. You got a problem?" Francis shook his head and felt his heart rate quicken as Alfred grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around and face him. He wasn't used to being unarmed in situations like this. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you." With their faces only inches apart Francis could see how young Alfred actually was. He didn't look a day over 21 and yet Francis could see why people were terrified of him. He had bright blue eyes that were full of energy and were unwavering their glare. A calm sea before a storm. Francis was unimpressed, though, and was about to push the other off him when his face fell and he started laughing as he let Francis go and took a bite of the sandwich, talking through the chewing. "Nah I'm just messing with you. No soul in their right mind could resist looking at this." He gestured to his whole self, and Francis couldn't help but raise his eyebrow.

"Ah yes, you make quite the spectacle." 

Alfred looked at Francis with an expression of shock and then let out another boisterous laugh. "You the new desert guy? Gotta say you handled that pretty well most of these new dudes almost fainted."

It was surreal that Francis was having a conversation with this man right now. It unnerved him that Alfred was the one in control of it too - much more difficult to get the information he wanted when he wasn't the one asking the questions. "Yes, Sir. I can imagine it."

"Call me Alfred. And you are?" He'd walked around to the front of Francis' station, forcing him to turn back to his work while Alfred talked to him. 

"Francis." He frowned at the ruined eclair in front of him and then up at Alfred who was eyeing him with interest over the top of his sandwich. "Hardly a famed pairing of foods, but would you like to sample this eclair? I'm afraid it is no longer presentable."

"Oh my god, yes, don't ever even ask." The American then scooped up the aforementioned treat and smiled at Francis. "I like you. The last one never let me have anything." Very little remorse.

"I'll make sure to keep aside some deserts for you then? Practise makes perfect, it could only help, really."

"Dude you are _so_ my new favourite. What else have you got?" Alfred asked in a lighthearted tone, scanning Francis' work area for more things he could snatch up. There wasn't a hint of the intimidating aura he had chosen to exude earlier.

"Alfred, leave the poor man alone he has work to do." Berwald warned.

"Aww you jealous?" And Alfred'd attention switched just like that. He acted very childlike but the way he looked at Francis earlier, like he could see right through him, proved that he was capable of being serious and knew how to behave professionally if and when he needed to. Francis had analysed a lot of criminals in his career but this was new for him. He'd seen people fake emotions and behave erratically in an interrogation but Alfred seemed to be both in complete control of and completely controlled by his impulses at the same time. "Don't fret you still hold a dear place in my heart." 

"Go away." Berwald said, amusement lining his voice.

"Your wish is my command." Alfred relented and made his way to the door and was halfway out before turning his head around and calling back before he left, "oh yeah I meant to tell you that Arty has a meeting at ten thirty." Then he was gone.

"It's a good job you've already made some things, Mr Kirkland will want them in the meeting room. Best hope they're impressive." Berwald told Francis before his pastries were taken away by a few well-dressed waiters that didn't utter a word. They didn't have time to with how they were rushing. Alfred's careless nature didn't seem to even slightly consider who his actions affected. Francis couldn't wait to bring the man to justice.

\---------------------

Four hours had passed after Francis' creations had been taken from the kitchen for the meeting, and a further two since the rest were served with lunch. He'd had his own lunch with one of the junior chefs called Feliks who seemed to talk a mile a minute about absolutely nothing at all but made for decent conversation for someone Francis had never interacted with. After that he'd made some bread dough for sweet buns and while he waited for it to prove he helped Feliks by doing minimal tasks that helped with his cooking. If things had been different Francis could have imagined Feliks as a friend but as it was he couldn't possibly. Maybe after everything was through and all of these exploited employees were freed they could be but he doubted it. This wasn't the time to get attached to people but Francis could hardly help it. He'd always loved getting to know people and being surrounded by them. It was why he was so good at this kind of work.

While he was mixing some sort of broth in a saucepan a young waiter came in and mumbled something to Berwald. The head chef then nodded and slung a small towel over his shoulder then walked up to Francis. "Mister Kirkland wants to meet you."

The frenchman felt his whole world stop. This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to gradually work his way up over months. People who owned this much, had control over thousands of people and places, people like _Arthur Kirkland,_ were never supposed to meet the smaller people. They were supposed to stay in their Hightowers away from the filth not venture down and talk to them like some sort of Rapunzel. It just wasn't done. _What if this is it? What if he hadn't liked the pastries and he was about to get fired the good old fashioned way, no doubt the same as the last who filled his position?_ _What if he'd known I was a detective all along and had just had me delivered to his front door step to make easy work of showing off his power?_ For the first time in a while Francis was actually scared, and Berwald must have been able to see it because he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't be so terrified he's not so bad. Everybody here has met him."

Francis tried to take a deep breath to calm down but found it was a futile effort and his head was still swimming. How did these people act so calm? The only explanation was that they didn't know anything about who they were really working for and presumed he was an ordinary businessman. _But he's known for what he does_. He must have something on every single one of these people for them to act like they were in a normal workplace. Either that or they were being bribed. Either way Francis knew he couldn't run away from finding the answer. Even if he managed to bolt past the armed guards he would be hunted down. This city belonged to Arthur Kirkland, there wasn't a single area that didn't have one of his informants living there. He'd be dead within the week. 

"Where do I have to go?"

"Come. I'll walk you there in case you pass out half way there." He turned to start walking and Francis walked along with him, choosing to clear his mind and focus on his walking and Berwald's talking. In a strange way, Francis felt like Berwald would make a good father despite his stoic personality. He felt strangely safe under his guardianship, though he knew when it came to it he was useless against Kirkland. "Don't look so scared. He smells fear." _Yes, big, intimidating man, now is the time to exercise your humour._ "Everyone is always a little anxious to meet their boss but I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen it'll be fine."

"Thank you, Chef." 

The taller man simply nodded and let the rest of the short journey pass in silence until the lift doors opened into a penthouse apartment and a short, angry looking man with blood on his shirt was dragged into the elevator by guards as Francis left it, shouting in Italian at the top of his lungs even as the doors closed. 

As the elevator went down the sound was replaced by a low chuckling from the right of the large open space before him. It was as beautiful an open space as Francis had ever seen in a home. The huge glass walls had a full view of the city and the interior design was modern and flawless with dark colours and items of value displayed tastefully. There were countless directions of rooms and hallways spanning from this main area but this was clearly where the most time was spent. The array of sofas and other furniture related that. So did the bar at which stood a man in a black suit with his back to him, the source of the laughter. 

"Don't you hate it when pests get into your home?" The man turned to Francis and time seemed to slow down. He now saw the glass of whiskey in the man's hand and also a set of piercing green eyes that Francis would have called beautiful if they were on anybody else. He'd seen Kirkland's photograph a ton of times in the files he was given but it was nothing compared to the real thing. His hair was much less unkempt than it was in the photos of him getting into a car in the wind but still looked a little uncontrollable. File photographs were usually blurry and made skin look smooth which was far from the truth most of the time but Kirkland seemed to have no blemishes on his pale skin, nor any facial hair except a thick yet well-shaped pair of eyebrows that just drew more attention to his eyes. He also looked taller in real life, easily the same height as Francis if not an inch or so shorter. He was also rather lean with some muscle that was accentuated by the suit. Francis had the very guilty thought that if these were his last moments at least the last thing he'd see was those eyes. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice deep and void of any care for the answer. Somehow Berwald's demeanour seemed softer now.

"Yes, Monsieur Kirkland. I've just never been somewhere so beautiful yet so modern." Francis said. 

Arthur seemed to like that and gave the apartment a quick once-over, never lingering on anything. _No sentiment_. This place was just somewhere to sleep, not somewhere to relax or have fun. Francis couldn't picture this man trying to have fun if his life depended on it. Though it wasn't surprising, what with the things he did. "It is quite exquisite, I'll hand you that." He turned to the bar and picked up a second glass of whiskey for Francis then headed towards one of the sofas and gestured to the opposite one. "Please, sit." He put the glass on Francis' side of the table and leaned back on his chosen sofa so that his jacket was slightly open and his hand-gun was visible to Francis as he sat opposite him, though he didn't acknowledge it. "Mister Bonnefoy, I'm sure you are aware of who I am from the media and I would like you to understand that I am not the man I'm made out to be." He then leaned forward and put his glass on the table, and stayed positioned forward, weapon now concealed, seemingly innocent but having purposely given Francis the knowledge that he was carrying. "That being said my work involves some rather... interesting people, and I need to know that I can trust you to be discrete about what and who you see here."

"Of course. I understand that what you do is important and I wouldn't dream of interfering." 

Arthur smiled at that but it never reached his eyes and Francis imagined no smile of his ever had or would. "That's the attitude I'm looking for." There was a small pause in which Francis knew others in his position would feel intimidated but Francis didn't. He'd been face to face with many criminals. This was where he was most used to being if anything. "Your baking skills are very good by the way. My guests were very impressed." 

"The man I saw on the way in seems to disagree." Francis smiled and surprisingly Arthur laughed. 

"Yes, well, he is a rather disagreeable person." Arthur picked up his whisky and took a sip. "I like you, Francis. I think you'll do well here." He looked at Francis then in a way he could only call calculating. It was the same look Gilbert got when he was looking through evidence and trying to figure out a case. 

"I do too, else I wouldn't have come so far for you, Sir." 

"Not many people would." 

"Not many people offer the salary I get here for a pastry chef. I suppose we are both equally remarkable, no?"

Arthur sat back. "Every employee here is remarkable in their own way, I believe."

He then looked to Francis's side for a second and the frenchman followed his gaze without even meaning to. It was difficult not to succumb to the direction of Kirkland when you were defenceless. Ludwig would be ashamed if he saw him right now. _Never take your eyes off the target_ , he'd say. But then, he'd never been in this place, _in front of this man_. There was a small glass dagger on a stand on the table to his right, and Francis didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to not acknowledge the weapon at all to prove he wasn't a threat? How could he have? He didn't see it on his way in and the whole display was glass, very easy to miss. 

"That ornament catches light very beautifully. Like fresh water on a summer day." He decided on as he turned back to Arthur and gained eye-contact once more. He didn't take the alcohol. Even being a little out of his senses could cost him his life right now.

Arthur nodded a little at that but his expression didn't change at all. It was only right, the detective supposed, seeing as how someone had seemed to have broke into his home just moments before Francis arrived. If that is indeed what happened. Arthur didn't seem at all shaken by the behaviour of the other man that had been present and Francis would love to know why but knew he would never ask. Arthur then studied his face for a few more seconds and said, "Alfred enjoys your work, I see."

"Alfred enjoys the work of all my peers, I think." Arthur let a small chuckle slip and Francis might have imagined it but he swore it was genuine. He can't imagine many people speak freely with him so it must have taken him off guard. Alfred seemed to be important to Arthur, what with the effort he'd gone through to protect him from the law, so that could also have been the reason.

"That he does." Arthur must have realised that he'd almost gotten comfortable with Francis, and stood up quickly, drinking the rest of his whisky. "I think we have an understanding, Mister Bonnefoy." He said abruptly, not wanting anything personal to slip into this work conversation, then turned his back and went back to the bar. "You may get back to work now, I'm sure Berwald is waiting."

"Thank you, Sir." Francis left and as soon as he was in the elevator he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He'd read that Kirkland was thorough when it came to organisation in his workers but he didn't realise he personally saw to that. He could see how his technique was effective in making sure his employees knew what they were in for and the threat of what would happen if they weren't loyal. He just hoped he wouldn't have to come face to face with him again any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an introduction so it's a bit short but I hope it's enjoyed


End file.
